Initiation
by Eli Atriedes
Summary: A baby named David is dropped off at a Temple of Ilmater. Raised in the church, he becomes fascinated with the Ilmatari monks from the nearby Monastery of the Yellow Rose. He dreams of joining, but a power-hungry man is plotting its destruction.
1. Prologue

Prologue

"Yes…yes…no…yes…," muttered Selfaril. He was looking down at his map of the region, his eyes darting back and forth across it, as if very quickly running scenarios in his mind. _If this is going to succeed, I cannot overlook a single detail…_

Still muttering to himself, his finger landed on the city of Mulmaster, where he ruled as High Blade. With over six thousand soldiers at his command, not counting the Cloaks, his personal contingent of wizards, he was a widely respected and feared man. His recent alliance with Zhentil Keep further convinced his enemies and allies that he is not one to cross. The alliance confused his subjects, for he had spent years keeping Zhentil Keep's influence away from the eastern region of the Moonsea. They were confused because they did not know the truth: "Selfaril" was dead. The man who now used his name had murdered him: his twin brother Rassendyll, who sympathized with the Zhentarim. He had used his brother's corpse to fake his own death and took the throne himself. As far as anyone was concerned, he _was_ Selfaril Uoumdolphin.

He lifted his finger from the map and it landed on Vaasa, the kingdom to the north, across the Moonsea and the Galena Mountains, and then on Damara, which is east of Vaasa. Tensions have been rising between the two neighboring countries for years and war seemed like a very real prospect. "Perfect," he whispered with small chuckle. With a careful use of his spies and bards, he can convince either Vaasa or Damara into finally making a move, plunging the Bloodstone Lands into war. _Just the distraction I need…_

He then moved farther south, his finger tapping on the kingdom of Impiltur. This was a wild card, he knew. Impiltur was allies with Damara, but it had a strong reputation of neutrality. It is unlikely that Impiltur will send troops to Damara's aid….supplies, maybe, but not troops. Still, he did not care whether Damara or Vaasa won the war he hoped to encourage, so this detail may prove unimportant. _It would be nice if they wiped each other out…that would save me some trouble…_

His finger then moved north again, stopping on a small area in Southwest Damara, a place that he knew was there, even though it was not labeled on his map. In the hills between the Earthspur Mountains and Earthwood lies the small town of Icehill. Scarcely a thousand people lived there, happily going about their lives, unaware of what Selfaril was planning to do.

The town, or more specifically, the area where the town was located, had something Selfaril desperately wanted. Something simple, mundane, something he had a fair abundance of already…

_Resources._

The Earthspur Mountains were packed with gold, silver, iron, gems, and bloodstone, just waiting to be mined; it would be enough to make him the wealthiest man in the North if he could claim exclusive rights to them. In addition, there was the Earthwood, a forest covering over a hundred square miles of hills just south of Icehill. Legend has it that a powerful druid, in order to protect it from the cold of the Great Glacier, enchanted this forest hundreds of years ago. Since then, it has never been covered in ice. However, the property that most drew Selfaril's attention was the forest's resilience; it grows back whatever was cut from it in just a few short years, supplying almost limitless lumber. Moreover, monsters that commonly inhabited the other forests in this region tended to avoid the Earthwood, making it that much easier to control. _I have to make them mine…_

His eyes then fell upon a spot on the map just a few miles west of Icehill and his jaw tightened. No longer did his eyes dart around; they focused on this one location with hatred so intense, the map might have set fire had he been trained in the magical arts.

_The Monastery of the Yellow Rose…_

The finger that rested on this spot began to tremble until the hand became a fist that crashed down on the marble table on which the map laid. A thunderous noise echoed through the chamber as the marble cracked from the force of the blow. He slumped down into his chair, attempting to calm himself.

"The one thing standing between me and untold wealth are those damn monks!" Selfaril said through gritted teeth. The few hundred monks of Ilmater that resided in the Monastery concerned him more than the entire military force of Damara. _It is not possible to take Icehill without the monks finding out first, _he thought, his mind racing again. _Even the weakest of them could easily take out a half-dozen soldiers before falling, the stronger ones many more than that! I have to even the odds if I am to succeed. But how?_

Selfaril walked over to an armoire, pulled open a drawer, and removed a gauntlet. As with every time before, he marveled at the artisanship. Made from obsidian by the best smiths in Zhentil Keep, this black gauntlet had been blessed by Fzoul Chembryl himself. He slipped the gauntlet onto his right hand then saluted with it, beating it once against his chest, and then fell to one knee in a posture of fealty.

"Bane, Lord of Darkness, Tyrant of Tyrants, I bow to your supreme will!" he said in a loud voice. "I wish to spread your tyranny to the lands to the east, furthering your goals to rule over all of Faerun! However, I am at a loss! My plan is perfect, but for one thing: the monks of the hated Ilmater! I beg of you, Master, show me how I can rid the land of these fools so that you can take your place as the true god of all that you see!"

Overwhelming pain filled his being as images were forced into his mind. They went by so fast, he could barely comprehend what he was seeing. _A mighty beast over a frozen land, killing all that dared oppose it…a corpulent fiend laughing at deaths it has caused…a field covered with heads on pikes, each one with Ilmater's symbol on their foreheads…_

When Selfaril was finally able to see normally again, he realized that he was drenched in sweat and his throat hurt as if he had been screaming. A moment later, he also realized that he was not standing where he was a few moments ago, but had somehow ended up back at the table with the map, his armored fist having apparently slammed down upon it. He lifted his arm and saw that the gauntlet had burned the Monastery off the map, leaving a charred hole.

A dark chuckle escaped his lips, growing louder and more intense with each breath. Before long, his maniacal laughter echoed off the walls.

_Yes…yes…It will all be mine…_

_*** * ***_

A few hundred miles away, Father Thernan was finishing the last of his meager meal of bread and cheese. He did not complain about the food; indeed, he considered it an honor. The temple's food stores were adequately supplied with a variety of fruits, meats, and breads, but they were not for him to enjoy, nor any other Ilmatari cleric living there. They were for the poor, the downtrodden, and the lame, those who could not eat otherwise.

The temple he managed was not flashy or attractive compared to the ones dedicated to the other deities worshipped in Laviguer, even though the Temple of the Broken God received more donations than any other temple in town. Instead of upgrading the church to make it more appealing to the eye or other vain objectives, the funds were redistributed back to the poor as food, shelter, and medical treatment. Even though the temple was only designed to hold about three hundred people during the worship services, almost twice that many have been the norm for the past few months. The recent influx of faith and donations has led to discussions among the clergy as to whether or not they should commission the building of a homeless shelter on the edge of town, or perhaps a hospital.

Light filled the worship chamber for an instant, followed by a peal of thunder that shook the building, causing dust to fall from the rafters. Thernan did not react; it had been storming like this all night. Normally he would have a dozen or so individuals taking shelter here on a night like this, but tonight, he was alone. It pained him to think of those poor souls having nothing to protect themselves from the harshness of the storm; he could readily think of at least four children who did not even have shoes on their feet.

He suddenly realized that he might not be able to hear if someone were to knock on the temple doors in such a loud storm from where he was sitting. _I should stand right by the door until my shift is over. I would not forgive myself if someone needed shelter from this tempest and I made them stand out in it. _Wiping the crumbs off his robe, he stood, wincing a little. Rubbing his shoulder, he thought back to earlier that day, when a visitor to the town had his mule die on him, leaving his cart immobile. Father Thernan had offered to pull the wagon to the stables so the traveler could buy a new mule. Thernan remembers the incredulous look on the stranger's face when Thernan said a quick prayer to Ilmater to grant him strength. He had lifted up the wagon by the hitch and pulled it all the way to the stables, as was promised. He had refused payment for his deed, glad to be of help. Despite Ilmater's blessing, his muscles rebelled against such abuse. _Such is the life of an Ilmatari_, he thought with a smile.

A banging on the large oak doors of the temple interrupted his thoughts. He ran to the door; his muscles protested the sudden demand. He pulled the door open and two hooded figures rushed in, stopping a few feet from the door. Their hoods were pulled low, so Thernan could not see their faces.

Thernan fought the wind as he tried to close the door, but his muscles were too weak. Suddenly, one of the figures was there, pushing on the door with him. Together, the wind did not stand a chance. The door slammed shut, causing the temple to grow quiet again. It was then that he noticed the shorter of the two strangers was holding a small child bundled up in a burlap cloth. The child could not have been more than a few weeks old!

"By Ilmater's Grace!" exclaimed Thernan. "A child should not be out in this weather, especially one so young! Come, and I shall fetch you some dry robes and some food, and you may stay here until the storm passes."

"I'm afraid we don't have enough time for such hospitalities," said the taller one, obviously male. "We have come seeking Ilmater's help…or more specifically, your help."

Thernan shook his head. "The little one could easily die of exposure in such a storm. Please, I beg you, stay here until--"

"We can't," interrupted the shorter one, a woman. "Please do not think ill of us, but we are being hunted. We wish to spare our son such a fate. Please take him and give him a better life…" Her voice cracked and trailed off.

"Hunted?" Thernan asked, concern in his voice. "By whom? Why are you pursued?"

"It would be best if you did not know who pursues us" said the man. "But we are being hunted for our…" He paused, as if looking for the right word. "…beliefs. We have committed no crime, nor harmed anyone. Our beliefs are…" he paused again, "…different. But our son should not have to suffer for them. "

"Please," the woman sobbed. "Have mercy on him…he deserves to have a normal life." She became wracked with sobs and she would have fallen over if the man, who Thernan now assumed was her husband, had not been there to support her.

Thernan closed his eyes and silently asked Ilmater for guidance. _What would you have me do, Ilmater? _After a moment, he opened his eyes and nodded. "I will take the boy and raise him as my own. Has he a name?"

"David," said the man.

"And his surname?"

There was no immediate response, and Thernan understood why. For the man to give David a surname would be to give him a connection that he did not want the boy to have, no matter how much he loved him. Thernan held out his hands. "I see. Worry not, for David will be well cared for."

The woman bent down and kissed the baby, her sadness apparent even though her face was hidden. She then handed him to Thernan. When she let go of the child, her will faded and she cried loudly, burying her face against the man's chest. The man held her close, whispering reassurances to her. When she regained her composure somewhat, she turned back to Thernan. "Thank you. You have given him a future. I am forever in your debt."

Thernan held the baby close and shook his head. "You have no debt. That is not how we work here. I bear your burden gladly." The woman nodded with another word of thanks.

"We must go," said the man, heading for the door. He opened it, causing the sound of the storm to once again fill the hall. The woman bowed and ran out into the night. The man also bowed, shouting another thanks over the din. Together, they closed the door again, the man outside pulling on the large, round handle. After the echoes of the door faded, silence pervaded the worship hall once more.

Thernan looked down at the babe in his arms, amazed to find him still sleeping. Thernan wondered how he could have slept through the whole ordeal. He had never raised a child before; luckily, another cleric at the temple, Sister Ressea, had had several children before joining the church. _Perhaps I should go wake her. _David woke up at that moment, looked up at Thernan, and started to cry. Before Thernan could discern what had happened, a strange, awful smell assaulted him. It did not take long for him to figure out why. _Yes_, he thought, as he ran towards Ressea's quarters, his face turning green. _I should wake her._


	2. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

David sat on a crate next to Blus Joleman's bakery, eating a freshly baked roll. His swinging legs beat a little rhythm on the crate. It had become routine for him. Every tenday, Father Thernan would send him off with the gold from the temple's treasury to help refill the food stores. Today, it was just a quick trip to Joleman's shop. He was a little disappointed. Not that he didn't like Blus; he was great friends with David and the temple, but it was the out-of-towners that interested him the most. Sometimes, fruits or grains shipped all the way from Chessenta arrived with traders from across the Sea of Fallen Stars. He loved talking with the merchants (or, more often than not, with the merchants' servants, as the merchants themselves were busy with customers), and the tales he would hear would keep him dreaming of adventure for nights on end.

Still, conversations with Blus could be nearly as entertaining. As the major bakery in town, Joleman's was the place to go for the local gossip. David normally avoided asking questions about things that were none of his business, but Blus sometimes could not help but tell a particularly interesting or funny rumor.

"Pullin' the last loaf out now, David!" hollered Blus from the oven in the back of his shop. The rotund man laughed heartily as he put the bread on a nearby rack to cool. "Just a few minutes from now, and it'll be wrapped n' ready for ya to take back to Father Thernan!"

David finished his roll and hopped down from the crate. He leaned his elbows on the counter that separated Joleman's store from those on the street, jerking his head to the side to shake the sandy-brown hair from his face. He was a little tall for his age, nearly a head taller than other boys his age. Other than that, there was nothing remarkable about him: brown eyes, light freckles on his face, and an average build.

He watched as Blus started kneading some more dough. He marveled at the speed Blus could work the dough into loaves. Of course, it was not hard to impress a twelve-year-old boy. Blus noticed David watching him and chuckled. "So," he said, placing the worked dough onto the baking pan, "are ya gonna ask them about your parents?"

David blinked, the question catching him off guard. "Of course, I will. I've been waiting for this for months. If anyone knows about my parents, it would be them."

"Here ya go, lad," the baker said with another hearty chuckle, placing the basket in front of David. "Say hello to Thernan fer me, an' I wish you the best of luck about yer parents." David took the loaves with a smile and a nod, and then headed back toward the temple. He let his mind wander as he walked; he had taken this path so many times, he was quite sure he could do it blindfolded. _My parents…could the monks possibly know who they were?_ It seemed unlikely. Still, what was the worst that could happen by asking? If they didn't know, he wouldn't have really lost anything. _But if they do…_

David jumped back as a mule-drawn wagon cut across his path, nearly running him over. The man driving the wagon looked down at David with an angry glance and yelled at him to watch where he was going. Before David could apologize, the wagon had moved on. David noticed that the crates on the wagon had painted on them the insignia of Impiltur. _War supplies_, _headed for Damara, _David realized. The politics involved were beyond David's understanding, but he did enjoy listening to the bards tell tales for the battles being fought in the Bloodstone Lands. His favorite tales were ones about Grandmaster Kane and Gareth Dragonsbane; the exploits he heard about them were almost too incredible to believe. He never missed an opportunity to hear the stories, unless his duties at the temple were more demanding of his attention. _That reminds me…I need to get this bread to Father Thernan._

He started on his way once more, only to be stopped by a beggar. The man was old and thin as a rapier; he looked as if the slightest breeze would blow him away. "Excuse me, young lad," he said in a wheezing voice, "I know you must be in a hurry, but is there any chance you could spare one of your loaves? I've not eaten in days…" The beggar looked at the bread hungrily.

David pondered this dilemma for a moment. _Everything Father Thernan has taught me about Ilmater says that I should give this man some food, but then I will have less bread than I was told to get, and I might not be able to convince him that I did not eat it myself and lie about giving it to the poor. _David had done exactly that once, but was caught in the lie. Ever since then, he has been afraid that this very scenario would occur. _What should I do?_

Before he could decide, he felt a hand land gently on his shoulder. He looked up with relief; it was Sister Ressea, the woman who had helped Thernan raise David from infancy. She was a slightly heavier woman, having never really lost the weight from her pregnancies almost twenty years prior. She kept her long, dirty blonde hair in a simple ponytail, leaving just a little in front to shape her face. She looked down at David with a warm smile and said, "Go ahead, David. That is why we bought them, after all."

David handed a loaf to the beggar. "May Ilmater help you bear your burdens, good sir," he said with a pleasant smile. The beggar thanked them repeatedly as we went down a nearby alley. David watched the old man stop and kneel beside an old woman David had not been aware of. As the man broke the bread to share with her, David noticed that the woman had no legs below the knees! He felt terrible for even hesitating to give the man food. He made a mental note of where they were should he come back this way again soon.

"Do not feel guilty, son," Sister Ressea said. "Your concern of how Father Thernan would react is not misplaced. However, you have a witness to your generosity, unlike last time," she added with a chuckle. "I am sure he will approve. Come, let's go home."

_It's as if she can read my mind, _David thought for what seemed like the thousandth time. _It must be a mother thing…_

* * *

Father Thernan was kneeling in the main worship hall at the Rack, which was exactly what it sounded like: a rack used in torture, except this one was broken beyond use, painted to give the appearance of being bloodstained. Even though the bloody, broken rack was Ilmater's symbol, he couldn't help but think that a new symbol might encourage more people to turn to Ilmater. Still, he knew that it was unwise to change a god's holy symbol without direct instruction from that god or his or her herald. _Ilmater has his reasons, I'm sure._

Thernan had aged well in the twelve years since he adopted David, despite the stress he had to contend with on a daily basis. His hair was cut short, as was always his style, though it was now tinged with grey on his sideburns. Wrinkles had crept in around his blue eyes, thought they could not diminish the light and warmth emanating from them; if anything, they enhanced the effect.

Thernan stood and turned toward the opening door, smiling as his adopted son returned. He nodded approvingly as David told him of his encounter with the beggar. "You have learned well, my son. You make Ilmater, and me, proud." He rustled David hair, chuckling as David squirmed and swatted his hand away. "Now, go and put the bread in the pantry, then hurry back. We still have preparations to do before our guests arrive."

David nodded and headed down to the food storage. He was tired; he had been going almost nonstop since he woke up that morning. He knew that complaining would get him nowhere; it was easier to just do what was asked of him, even though he could not think of anything he hasn't done already. _I'm sure Father Thernan or Sister Ressea will find something for me to do…they always do…_

* * *

The day of the monks' arrival had finally come. David was so excited that he barely got any sleep the night before. Everything was ready except that their bread had been depleted by an unusually high number of visitors the night before. Shortly after he woke up, Thernan handed David some coins and told him to hurry to Joleman's. David headed off without complaint, excited about the chance to finally get some answers about his past.

He ran the entire way to the bakery, surprising himself that he could do such a feat. Gasping for air, he handed over the gold and told the baker what he needed. Blus, sensing David's urgency, got to work immediately.

David leaned against the counter, clutching his side. As his pulse finally started to slow, he noticed that the street was mostly deserted. _It is earlier than when I usually come here, _he realized. _If Blus finishes soon, I might be able to get back before the locals gather._

A noise to his left snapped David from his thoughts. Turning an ear toward it, he listened more closely.

"…don't…please…have mercy…" It was a woman, her voice world-weary and strained. Immediately after she spoke, he heard the sound of men laughing and jeering.

"Why don't you just run along…oh, I'm sorry! You don't have any legs!" The laughter escalated, almost drowning out more pleas from…_The old woman from the alley!_, David thought with horror. His disgust quickly gave way to anger. _Who would have a heart cold enough to torture a poor, crippled, old woman?_ He looked back at Blus. He was still working the dough, oblivious to the sounds; he apparently cannot hear over the sound of the fire in his oven. His jaw tightening, he strode over towards the sound, looking down the alley from whence they came.

There were three men in a semicircle around the woman, who was sitting with her back against a wall. One man, a half orc, by the looks of it, was obviously the leader. One of the others was short and bald, despite looking to be only in his early thirties, while the other was tall and thin with missing teeth. They were taunting her with something, holding it higher than she could reach. _An apple, _David realized. _They are taunting her with food! How could they do…wait…where is the old man?_ David looked about frantically, finally spotting him a few feet away from them, doubled over with blood dripping from his mouth. The sight drove David over the edge.

"Hey!" he shouted at the men. "You leave them alone! You have no right to torment them so! Their lot is bad enough without such treatment!"

The men looked at David as if he had lost his mind. The half orc sneered at him, a menacing effect augmented by his single tusk. "Well, boys, we got ourselves a hero!" he said sarcastically. They started toward him, the thin one giving the old man a kick in the ribs as he passed. David felt like he was going to explode with anger.

"Wha' should we do wif 'em, boss?" said the bald one, his accent so thick David has a hard time discerning what he said.

"He wants to be a hero," the half orc said, his one tusk causing his bottom lip to protrude grossly. "So…let him try." He held his arms out to the side, grinning dangerously. "C'mon, hero! First punch is all yours. Let's see what ya got!"

David glanced past the thugs and saw that the old man had gotten to his feet. He had lifted the woman onto his back, despite his obvious agony. David marveled at the perseverance the old man displayed. He knew men a third that age that could not do such a feat! The man nodded his thanks to David, his face a bloody grimace of pain. He started to limp away.

"Ha! Figures. You are no hero, boy!" The half orc drew David's attention back to him. The thugs laughed at David's lack of action, thinking him a coward.

David simply smiled at them, hoping to keep their attention on him and away from the fleeing beggars. "You are right. I am no hero. I know I cannot hope to beat you in a fight. You are much older and stronger than I am. It would be-"

WHAM! David suddenly found himself on the ground, blinded by pain. The half orc had laid him out with a single blow to the face. Through the ringing in his ears, he heard the laughter of the men, jeering at his weakness. His tried to will his arms into obeying him, but they refused.

_Ilmater, please help me…Do not let them harm the beggars...Just a little longer… _

He felt the pain lessen somewhat, enough to push himself off the ground. He staggered to his feet, barely able to breathe through his freshly broken nose. He squared his shoulders and looked directly into the half orc's eye. He could no longer see the beggars. _They escaped…Thank Ilmater!_ He forced a smile through the pain, managing to keep his surprise at his own audacity hidden. "Is dat all?" he said thickly through the blood.

The half orc's nostrils flared. "Why you insolent, little…!" he growled, pulling his fist back for a punch David was sure would knock his head clean off. David closed his eyes, not wanting to see it coming. _Go ahead…I die to save another…I know Ilmater is pleased._

David heard the grunt as the thug threw the punch, followed by a smacking sound…just inches in front of his face! Slowly, David opened his eyes. Someone was standing to his right. The stranger had caught the half orc's fist, holding it in place with ease. The thug glared angrily at the man and tried to pull his hand back, but he could not free himself. His eyes widened in shock.

"You shouldn't hit children," said the stranger. He spoke with a nonchalant voice, as one would use when casually commenting on the weather.

"Nor should you torment the meek," a voice said to David's left. He looked over and saw another man standing there, just as calm as his companion. It was then the David noticed that they both wore the same identical drab, grey robes. The one on his left had a grey teardrop tattooed by his right eye.

_The monks from the Monastery!_, David thought. He had always wanted to see what the renowned monks of St. Sollars the Twice-Martyred were capable of. _If what I have heard is to be believed, the thugs don't stand a chance._

A quick twist of the monk's wrist caused the half orc to howl in pain and drop to one knee. "Get them!" he bellowed.

The taller one pulled a dagger from his sheath, placing it in front of him defensively, waving it skillfully at the monk who held his boss. He feigned left, then swung the blade high…too high; the monk dodged the attack with ease. Then, David saw it; as the brigand spun with the motion of his strike, he drew a hidden blade with his free hand! The blade flashed quickly toward the monk's chest. David almost cried out; there was no way the monk could dodge it in time!

Luckily, he didn't have to. The second monk lunged forward, striking the thug on the wrist. The dagger fell from the man's grasp. Then, faster than David could follow, the monk crouched, then came up with his knee, striking the man in the sternum. The force of the blow knocked the man into the air. A split second later, the monk jumped up above the thug, flipped forward in mid air, and came down with a kick to the back of the head, sending the thug crashing to earth, where he lay motionless. The monk landed gracefully, followed by the sound of steel hitting the ground. David just stood there, his jaw open in a look of utter amazement. The monk had hit the man three times, knocking him unconscious, before the dagger had hit the ground!

The short thug had pulled out a dagger of his own, but he now seemed unable to use it. He stood motionless, an expression identical to David's across his face. Yelled something indecipherable, he threw his knife at the monk that was still holding the half orc's arm and ran, not even checking to see if it hit. It didn't. The monk, using his free hand, caught the blade between two fingers.

Sensing a momentary distraction, the half orc quickly came up with his left hand. His massive fist connected solidly with the monk's chest. His victorious smile was quickly replaced with a look of disbelief. A punch that would have knocked a horse out cold barely caused a reaction!

The monk glowered at the thug and roughly released his hand. Before the thug could react, the monk took a quick step back, shouted "Quivering Palm!", and stepped back towards the half orc, hitting him with an open-palmed strike to the chest. The half orc froze, a look of utter terror on his face.

_The Quivering Palm!_, David thought. He had heard of this technique in the bards' tales. It was said that certain monks, with a carefully placed strike, could set up tiny vibrations within the body of an opponent. Within an hour of the strike, the monk could, with but a moment's thought, cause the vibrations to instantly kill the victim. The half orc had apparently heard these tales, too.

"P-p-please!" the thug begged. "Mercy! I'll do anything you want! Mercy!"

"I seem to recall a certain old woman saying that recently," the monk said, his eyes narrowing. The half orc gulped. Sweat beaded on his large brow. "You will not harm the poor anymore," the monk continued. "Nor will your companions do so. As the boy said, they have a hard enough life. Would you like someone to do such things to you?" The half orc shook his head rapidly, causing his bottom lip to lag behind the motion a bit.

"Good," said the other monk. "I would suggest you get some medical help for your friend." He gestured to the unconscious thug. "He might walk funny for a while, but he will be fine. You may follow us to the Temple of Ilmater for treatment, if you wish. Perhaps the clerics there could so something about that wrist."

"Y-you would do that?" the half orc said, dumbfounded, holding his broken wrist gingerly. "Even after all that happened, you would invite us into your god's temple…to _help_ us?" The monk nodded.

"I would recommend you take them on their offer," said a formal sounding voice behind David. He turned and saw two of the town guards, each one holding an arm of the short, fat thug that had run. He seemed a little more roughed up than when he left. "Your jail sentence will be bad enough without those injuries." _About time you showed up_, David thought.

"We'll go to the temple!" the half orc said quickly.

"I thought so," the guard said. He then looked down at David. "By the gods, boy! Are you alright?"

David started to respond, but was stopped as darkness crept in around his vision. He blinked a few times, trying in vain to clear his sight. He looked up at the monks. _They look really worried. I wonder what's wrong._ His head swam and the ground rushed up to meet him, and he saw no more.

_Oh…I forgot…the bread… _


	3. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

"_David…David…wake up, son…" _The voice seemed so far away. _Where am I? _David slowly opened his eyes. He found himself lying in his bed with Father Thernan sitting beside him. The two monks stood behind Thernan with small smiles on their faces. "How long have I been here?" David inquired groggily.

"Since yesterday," Thernan said. "You were brought here right after you fainted. I would have healed you sooner, but I had exhausted all my spells on an old man who came in shortly before you. I could not pray for more until this morning."

David raised an eyebrow. "Did the old man have-"

"Broken ribs?" finished one of the monks. "Indeed, he did. You were very brave, young David. Your dedication to the Crying God is very strong, despite your age. There are fully grown men who would not do what you did."

The comment filled David with pride. "Still, what I did was nothing compared to what you two did!" David said as he sat up quickly, his grogginess puhsed aside by his excitement. "You should have seen it, Father. I have never seen someone move so fast. They even used the Quivering Palm technique! Do you know what that does?" David stopped as he noticed the monks exchange knowing looks and a chuckle.

"Actually, David, I didn't," said the monk who had performed the attack. "That particular technique is beyond my abilities."

This revelation confused David. "Then why…oh!" he said with a knowing smile. "It was a ruse!"

"Indeed, it was. I'll admit it was a gamble, for it was possible that the half-orc would be ignorant of what the Quivering Palm was. It is a good thing he wasn't; it allowed us to end the fight without further violence. Ah, but where are my manners," he said, pressing his palms together and bowing. "I am Adorned Brother Hulder, at your service."

"And I am Adorned Brother Teluhar," said the monk with the tear tattoo, repeating the gesture.

David repeated the gesture, which seemed so please them. "Where are the thugs?" he asked, suddenly remembering what the town guard had said. "Are they still here?"

'No," said Thernan. "They had their wounds tended to and were taken to the jails." He laughed and added, "They still seemed shocked as they left, as if it were beyond their understanding why we would help them at all. If only more people would come to know Ilmater…" He let the sentence hang with a sad expression and a sigh. David knew that it was Father Thernan's dream to have the word of Ilmater in the hearts of all, even if they did not worship the Broken God exclusively.

David started to ask another question, but his stomach rumbled loudly. This didn't surprise him; he had been unconscious for over a day.

"I bet you are starving, son," Thernan said as he stood. "Come, let us eat. Sister Ressea has been cooking your favorite: a hearty chicken vegetable pie." This surprised David. Normally he was only allowed to eat a few mouthfuls of meat at each meal with some bread and cheese, as was required by all members of the church. He only got to eat the chicken pie on his birthday. Excited, he followed them to the kitchens.

* * *

As they ate, David determinedly decided to learn all he could from them. "How many of you are there in the Monastery?" he asked

"Seven hundred, sixty-one," said Teluhar without hesitation. Seeing David's incredulous expression at such a rapid, exact response, he added, "There is one monk for each of the Demalous Martyrs. There can be exactly seven hundred, sixty-one monks at a time, no more, no less."

"Then how does one join?" David asked.

"Only when one of us passes on into Ilmater's Embrace, leaves of our own volition, or, more rarely, is banished for severely breaking tenants," Hulder responded. "It's not a prison; we may leave whenever we like, but we cannot join the ranks ever again."

David gave them a wry smile. "Is there a minimum age requirement?"

The monks laughed at the obvious nature of the question. "Are you seeking membership, young David?" asked Hulder. David just shrugged. "No, there is no set age at which a prospecting member must be, but the Initiation is not to be taken by one too young to endure it. Such qualifications are determined ahead of time."

"Initiation?" David perked up at this little tidbit of knowlege. "What is that like?" For the first time, the monks paused, as if deciding whether or not they were revealing too much. Naturally, this made David even more intrigued.

"Before I tell you this, young David," Teluhar said, "know that we can only reveal just so much. We have no authority to share more than we will. If we don't tell you something specific, it means we can't, and asking will prove unfruitful. Agreed?" David quickly agreed, desperate to hear more.

"Well," Teluhar stared slowly, "once a position becomes available, those wishing for admission must head to the Monastery of the Yellow Rose. It rests on a high peak in the northern Earthspur Mountains. Upon arrival, they are interviewed to determine if they qualify for the Initiation." He paused for a moment, as if deciding how best to continue.

Hulder continued for him. "The Initiates then have to overcome trails, called Gates, based on the principles of Ilmater."

"What are the Gates, exactly?" David asked. He suddenly remembered that he was not supposed to ask questions. He lowered his gaze in shame.

The monks looked at one another for a moment and nodded. Hulder said, "I suppose we could tell you what the Gates are named, but that is all." David nodded, glad the conversation was continuing. "The Gates are named thus: Charity, Humility, Piety, Suffering, and Compassion. Each gate instructs the particular aspect it is named after."

"And once they pass the Initiation, they become Adorned and can then choose their particular field," Teluhar said. "They can choose to become a Chronicler, with focus on genealogy and history, as we have, or they can become a Broken One, the defenders of the faith."

"Holy warriors, if you will," added Hulder.

"Exactly," continued Teluhar. "The third choice would be the Ascetics, those that go out into the world to take on the burdens of the less fortunate."

David pondered that for a moment. _If the historians of the Monastery can fight as well as Brothers Hulder and Teluhar, what would the Broken Ones be capable of?_ He could scarcely imagine such prowess. He pictured himself standing by the old beggars from yesterday, the three thugs unconscious at his feet. _I could do so much for the poor if I could fight that well. If my parents had such abilities, maybe they could have protected me rather than-_

_My parents!_ thought David. He had been so fascinated by the monks that he had forgotten the very reason he had been so intent on meeting them. He felt a little foolish.

"I have been meaning to ask you something," David said after he finished his pie. "I am an orphan. My parents dropped me off here when I was a baby. They did not tell Father Thernan who they were, only that they were being hunted for their beliefs. I wanted to know if you knew anything of them."

Both monks furrowed their brows looked at one another. After a moment, they both shrugged. "I'm sorry, David, but I cannot say I have heard of this. However, we will research it for you when we return to the Monastery."

David felt a little disappointment, but it quickly faded. _I suppose it was foolish of me to think that they would have all the information memorized. At least I'm one step closer to finally getting some answers. _He nodded to them. "Thank you. I greatly appreciate it."

The monks stood. "Thank you for the meal. We must go now. We have much work to do. We shall be back around nightfall." It wasn't until then that David realized how little the monks had eaten. Part of their training, perhaps?

"Of course," said Thernan, who had been silent nearly the entire meal. "If you need anything, feel free to ask. I'll be in the worship hall. David, help Sister Ressea clean up here, and then join me." He ruffled David hair and stood.

The monks bowed to Thernan and David in their fashion. "May Ilmater help you bear your burdens." They headed out towards the front door.

As David washed the bowls, he contemplated all he had learned. _How amazing it would be to live in the Monastery! Perhaps there will be a vacancy when I am old enough to join._ His mind began to wander once again, seeing himself fight off wave upon wave of thugs with impunity. A quick slap on the arm from Ressea brought him back to reality. She seemed to be trying not to laugh. David just grinned and got back to work.

* * *

"Grandmaster Poke was right," Hulder said after they stepped outside out of earshot. "He asked about his parents."

Teluhar nodded. "The Grandmaster of Flowers is rarely mistaken."

"It seems so wrong," Hulder said, shaking his head. "David is a good kid, and he has every right to know-"

"Grandmaster Poke has his reasons," Teluhar interjected. "We both know he should remain ignorant, lest he be tempted. I do not like it, either," he admitted with a sigh, "but we have our orders, and Grandmaster Poke would never do anything Ilmater himself would not approve. We have to trust his judgment."

They turned a corner, headed for the first of the many homes they were to visit today, "Besides," Teluhar continued, "Grandmaster Poke is old and in poor health; I doubt he will still be alive by the time we return. Whoever succeeds him may not wish to keep it secret."


	4. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

David made his way back to the Temple, his arms full of food, herbs, and other supplies that he purchased for Father Thernan. He had been out all day and the sun was starting to set. The town was noticeably more bustling that usual. It was only five more days before the Summer Solstice and the annual festival was the talk of the town. David hardly cared, though. For the past few months, all he could think about were the monks. Almost every night since the monks returned to the Monastery, David had spent hours shadowboxing in his room, imagining himself defeating foe after foe. The desire to join the Monastery dominated his dreams and his thoughts to the point of distracting him from his duties (as Sister Ressea repeatedly reminded him).

David was only a few yards from the Temple when a loud voice shook him from his thoughts. He noticed that a small group of people had gathered around a man with wild eyes and torn clothing who was talking rapidly through a frazzled beard. David stopped to listen.

"Why?" said the man to the crowd. "Why are you just milling about, like cattle in the fields? Can you not see? Have you not heard? Do you not pay heed to the Roll of Years? Augathra the Mad has named this the Year of Shadows! SHADOWS!" The man bellowed, causing those close to him to take a step back. "Only a fool does not pay heed to the Roll of Years! I have seen it, just as Agatha saw it! Stay at home, be with your families, and forgo this useless festival, for the gods will not hear your prayers!"

David had heard enough. This man was obviously insane. David knew that Ilmater heard his prayers; he had no doubts. He would ask Father Thernan about the man when he made it back to the Temple; perhaps the man needed counseling.

David walked through the front door of the Temple. Father Thernan was at his customary place at the Rack, his back to the door, his head bowed in prayer. David made it only a few steps into the worship hall when something happened. It was so fast that he gasped audibly from surprise.

_What….what happened?_ David thought. He felt empty, hopeless, and distraught, as if his very reason for being was suddenly taken from him. He looked to Father Thernan to ask him what happened, but noticed that Thernan was now leaning against a pew, a look of confusion and horror on his face.

"Father," David said, his voice cracking a little. "What just happened? I feel…I feel…" He could not even think of the proper word to use. Thernan, however, knew one that fit.

"Alone," Thernan whispered. He sat down on the pew and put his face in his hands. "What we are feeling, David, or, rather, what we are _not_ feeling, is Ilmater. It is as if he no longer resides in our hearts." Thernan sounded unsure of himself.

David just shook his head. "That's not possible, Father. We have not wavered in our faith. Ilmater would not just abandon us!" David fell to his knees and started crying; he had never felt so empty before.

Thernan stood up and put his arms around David. "I know, son. We will figure this out. Come," he said as he helped David to his feet, "Let's find the others. I'm sure they are just as confused as we are."

David stood and followed Thernan for a moment before hurrying back to close the door he had left open. When he reached it, he scanned the crowd, who did not seem to feel Ilmater's absence, for the old man he saw earlier.

The old man was nowhere to be seen.

For the first time in months, the monks were the last thing on David's mind. He rubbed his eyes wearily; he had barely slept the night before. Thernan had gathered the clerics of the Temple to hold a meeting, where he discovered that all had felt the same emptiness. None of them were able to pray for the spells they needed. The few sent to the other temples within Laviguer reported that every cleric from every faith suffered from the same dilemma: they could not feel their deity's presence nor receive spells.

David rose from his bed and walked to the Temple's infirmary, Laviguer's only hospital. There were at least thirty people here, leaving only a handful of beds empty. Seeing the injured people caused the memory of what happened the night before to flood back into David's mind. _It was horrible…_

An explosion had shaken the Temple, startling the clerics. When they went outside, they saw the local mages guild in flames. Several people ran out of the burning building, their clothes on fire. The clerics helped many of the people escape, but several dozen mages were burned alive. David helped as well as he could, but he did not have the healing skills of the clerics, and the sight of the burned and mangled bodies threatened to overwhelm him. Eventually, Thernan sent him to bed. The screams and moans of the dying kept him awake long into the night. Several others had died since David went to bed, and none of the clerics appeared to have gone to sleep.

David approached Thernan, who was performing last rites over a covered body. After Thernan finished, David asked, "Father, did you find out what happened last night at the guild house?"

Thernan nodded, his face grim and weary. "One of the mages was scribing a _fireball_ scroll when it exploded. I'm not even sure how that is possible; the scroll wasn't even finished." Thernan wiped the sweat from his brow. "Magic has become unpredictable. Mystra, the goddess of magic and Keeper of the Weave, is apparently not at her post. Something has happened to the deities, my son." He looked down at David to emphasize his next words. "_All of them._"

David was horrified. "What do you mean, Father? Who or what could do something like that? They're gods! Who are more powerful than they?"

"I don't know," Thernan replied. "Something happened to them, probably against their will. But don't lose faith, son." He put his hands on David's shoulders. "Ilmater did not leave us. Something is holding him back. He will return. However, until then, we must continue to uphold his tenants. These people need us. We must endure, we must persevere, and we must not lose faith." He ruffled David's hair and went back to the patients, revitalized by his own words.

David watched his father in admiration. _His faith is so strong that he can simply speak his beliefs aloud and invigorate himself. If he can do it, so can I!_

"I will be strong, Father. What do you need me to do?"

Three months passed. The feelings of emptiness persisted. The absence of Ilmater's Grace had caused donations to falter to near zero. People still came to the Temple for healing, being as there was no other medical facilities in Laviguer, but without their spells, Father Thernan and the others were unable to keep up with the demand, having to rely solely on mundane treatment. Many patients died as a result. The lack of funds also made it nearly impossible to clothe and feed the needy. Still, Father Thernan refused to turn away those in need. Under his orders, the clerics and David had to eat as little as possible, even less than they were accustomed, to make sure there was enough food for the poor. This did little to help morale. Thernan wished there was another way, but he was without options.

David lay in bed, his stomach gurgling loudly. As every night before, he prayed. He prayed for this to end. He prayed that things would go back the way they were. Still, he could not help but feel that his prayers went unheard.

Unable to sleep, David rose from his bed and began walking. He had no particular destination in mind; he just needed something to distract him from his thoughts and his empty belly. A few moments later, he found himself in the worship hall. David stopped before the Rack, staring at its bloodstained wood. The eerie quietness filled the room as David stood there. The only movement came from the two tall candles flanking the altar.

"How much more?" David whispered aloud. "How much longer? You have always taught us that perseverance and endurance in times of suffering are the keys to holiness. I truly believe that, but the people are turning away from you! Without your blessings, which we have become dependent on, the people see no reason to donate to the Temple. Without those funds, we cannot help the poor and hungry. We cannot even afford the salves and poultices we need to treat the injured. Please, Ilmater…I don't know how long we can do this…"

David wiped the tears brimming in his eyes and took a steadying breath. As Father Thernan had instructed him, he mentally recited Ilmater's tenants for what felt like the millionth time. _Help all who hurt, no matter who they are. The truly holy take on the suffering of others. If you suffer in his name, Ilmater is there to support you. Stick to your cause if it is right, whatever the pain or peril. There is no shame in a meaningful death. Stand up to all tyrants, and allow no injustice to go unchallenged. Emphasize the spiritual nature of life over the existence of the material body…_

A loud knock on the doors startled David from his thoughts. After taking a moment to calm himself, he grabbed one of the candles, went to the door, and pulled it open. A man stood there, leaning against the doorframe. In the pale candlelight, David saw that the hairy man was nearly naked, save for a loincloth that looked like it was made of burlap. The man breathed heavily, as if each breath was a torturous chore. David's eyes widened when he noticed that the man was bloody and covered in wounds. The man looked like he had just taken a beating.

"May I come in?" the man asked with a pained voice and a small smile.

"Of…of course!" David stammered. _How could he smile with wounds like that? Forget that, how in the Nine Hells is he even standing?_

David helped the man into the worship hall and closed the door. The man was short, only a few inches taller than David. He had a hard limp on his right leg; he needed David's support just to make it to one of the pews. "Just wait here," David said. "I'll go wake up Father Thernan. He can help you with these wounds better than I could." David refrained from asking what happened to the man; somehow, he just did not want to know.

"There's no need for that," the stranger replied. "I'm fine. These wounds are not as bad as they seem. I've certainly had worse." The man shifted in his seat with obvious pain. "All I really need is a place to sleep for the night. Perhaps a bit of food."

"Are you sure?" David asked. "Those wounds look very painful. I'm sure Father Thernan…."

"I'm fine," the man repeated patiently. "I'm sure there are others who have more need of your medicine than I."

David understood. "Your Ilmatari, aren't you?"

The stranger chuckled, wincing at the effort. "Something like that. What's your name, son?"

"David," he replied. David did not ask for the stranger's name in turn, for doing so is considered rude, according to Ilmater's tenants. The man would offer his name willingly if he wished for David to know it.

The man did not. "Well met, young David." His face became a grimace for a moment. After he recovered, he asked, "Do you have any food? I've not eaten in days."

David shrugged. "I'm not sure. We have been tight on food recently. Ever since the deities stopped responding to our prayers, people have not made donations as they once did. Still, you can have whatever I can find." Before the stranger could change his mind, David hurried off to the pantries.

_What is wrong with this guy?_, David thought. _He looks like he was beaten within an inch of his life! Why would he refuse treatment? I don't care if he's just being noble. He needs help! I'm telling Father first thing in the morning. Maybe he can talk some sense into him._

David arrived at the pantry. He opened the door and his heart sank. The shelves were bare. The crates and barrels were open and empty. David searched every nook and cranny for something, _anything_ that this man could eat. Finally, he found some hardtack at the bottom of a barrel. It was not much, just enough to stop the hunger pangs of one person for a few hours. As he examined it, his stomach growled loudly. He tried to fight it, but the thought occurred anyway. _I could eat this here and tell the man there was nothing in the pantry. I am sure he would understand. He probably would turn this down, anyway, seeing as how we will not even let us bandage his wounds…_

David shook the thought from his mind. _What am I thinking? Have I really stooped this low? Father would never forgive me! I will not give in. I won't!_ David forced himself not to look at the hardtack as he made his way back to the worship hall.

The man was still sitting where David left him. The stranger had his head down, his face contorted in pain. When he noticed David, he wiped the pain off his face and replaced it with a warm smile. "Any luck?" he asked.

David held out the hardtack. "I found this. It's not much, but it's all we have."

"This is everything you have?" the man asked in shock. "I can't take your last bit of food! Someone hungrier than I could walk through that door any minute!"

David felt a twinge of annoyance, but managed to stay calm. "Please, sir. You have already refused to have your wounds treated. Do not starve yourself, too. Let me help you."

"There are others who…" the man started to reply.

David cut him off. "This is the reason we have this food! The clerics and I are starving ourselves so the less fortunate can eat. We _choose_ hunger so that we can feed those who have hunger forced upon them. Ilmater would rather starve than watch others suffer, and so it us with us! Please, just take it." David offered the food again, trying to hide the fact the he felt horrible for snapping at the man.

The man looked stunned for a moment before reaching up and taking the hardtack. It was then that David noticed that at least two of the man's fingers were broken.

"You have my thanks, young David," the man said as he ate the hardtack. When he finished, he said, "Your faith in Ilmater is strong, even though he does not seem to hear your prayers. Why is that?"

David was taken aback by the question. He was not sure how to answer. "Well," he started as he sat down next to the stranger, "I was raised here in the church. You see, I am an orphan. My real parents left me here with Father Thernan when I was still a newborn. He raised me as his own, teaching me the tenants and instructing me in the ways of the Crying God. Ilmater has literally been my whole life, the only life I have ever known. My faith is a part of me. I know Ilmater will return. Whatever or whoever is keeping him from his worshippers will not do so forever. I just wish everyone felt that way…," David's voice trailed away.

The stranger nodded. "I am sure you are right, young David. I'm not sure how long this Time of Troubles will last, but I am certain that it will not be much longer."

They talked for a while more, mostly about David. The man seemed interested in him, but never revealed anything about himself. David mentioned the monks from the Monastery of the Yellow Rose and how he wished to join them when he was older.

"Keep faith, young David," the man said when David finished talking about the monks. "You have a pure heart and a willingness to learn. They would be foolish not to invite you into their ranks."

"Really?" David blushed, and the man nodded.

They sat in silence for a while before David pointed at the Rack at the front of the worship hall. "You know, I have always thought that the Rack was not the best choice of holy symbols."

The man furrowed his brow. "Why is that? Ilmater is the Tortured God. It makes sense to me."

"I didn't say it doesn't make sense," David interjected. "It just seems so…brutal. People come to the Temple to find ways to ease their suffering and troubles, and the first thing they see when they walk in is a blood-covered instrument of torture. Maybe something a little less…," David searched for the right word.

"Visceral?" the man suggested.

"Exactly," David agreed. "Something that still represents what Ilmater stands for, but will not frighten people away. That would be much better. Still, I'm sure Ilmater has his reasons for keeping the Rack. Father Thernan feels the same way."

The man looked at the Rack and nodded. "I see your point."

Silence filled the worship hall as they stared at the Rack. It was not long before David felt his eyes grow heavy. "I'm off to bed. Would you like me to help you to a bed, sir?"

"I'm fine right here," the man said as he laid down in the pew, not surprising David in the least. "Thank you, though. You have been most kind."

David stood and bowed to the man. "May Ilmater help you bear your burdens."

As David turned to go, the man said with another grimace of pain and a sly smile, "And yours, young David."

David headed straight for his bed. He lied down and stared at the ceiling for a while. Despite his hunger, he felt good about himself. It took incredible willpower not to eat the food, so much so that it amazed him that he was able to fight the urge. David closed his eyes, a smile on his face.

A few hours later, David awakened. David looked out the window to see the sun barley rising over the eastern horizon. His stomach had stopped growling and started outright roaring. _If I do not eat soon, I will be too weak to stand._ David left his room, remembering his promise to himself to tell Father Thernan about the badly wounded man sleeping in the worship hall. When he entered the hall, he saw Thernan praying before the Rack, as was his normal morning routine. David looked to where the man was sleeping, but he was not there.

"Father?" David asked. "Where is the man that was sleeping in the pews? He was badly injured, but would not let me wake you to treat him."

Thernan opened his eyes and looked down at David. "There was no one here when I arrived for my morning prayers. He must have left before I awoke."

David fought the urge to scoff at the stranger's stubbornness. "He was in bad shape, Father. I'm surprised he could even…ohhhh…," David groaned as his stomach churned loudly. "I need food, Father. I can barely think straight anymore."

"Go check the pantry," Thernan suggested. "There may be a little something…"

"There's nothing, Father. I gave the last bit of hardtack to the man last night."

Father Thernan smiled down at his son. "You were starving and, yet, you gave the last of your food to another. I am very proud of you, David. I'm sure Ilmater is pleased, wherever he is."

The words brought a smile to David's face. "I'll go check one more time. Maybe I missed something." David headed down to the kitchen and opened the pantry. He stared at the shelves with wide eyes as he fell to his knees. The shelves, crates, and boxes were practically overflowing with food! He had not seen the pantry so full in months.

"I…I don't understand," David stammered. He grabbed an apple from a barrel and stared at it as if it was made of solid gold. He had never seen anything so beautiful. He ran back to Thernan. "Father, look!" he shouted, holding the apple up to his father.

Thernan's eyes grew large as he took the apple from David. "We haven't bought apples since last fall! These are not even in season for another three months! How is this possible?"

"The entire pantry is overstocked!" David exclaimed excitedly. "Come see!" Before they could move, Sister Ressea came running into the hall.

"By Ilmater's Grace, it is a miracle!" she said breathlessly. "Our medicines have been fully restocked in the night! Bandages, herbs, tonics, salves, _everything_! Wait... is that an apple? Where did you find an apple?"

David could not believe it. In the course of a single night, all their prayers were answered. Thernan handed the apple back to David and hurried after Ressea to see what else had changed in the night. David barely noticed. His mind was suddenly racing. _No…it couldn't be…_

The apple fell to the floor, forgotten. David hurried behind the altar and pulled out a large tome from a cubbyhole in the back. The large book was old and worn with the Rack emblazoned on the front cover. He turned the pages hurriedly. At last, he found what he was looking for. He stared at the drawing, hardly believing what he saw.

David slowly closed the book and placed it back in the altar. _Should I tell Father? Would he even believe me?_ _Did I dream the whole thing? If it was a dream, where did the food and medicine come from?_ David stared at where he and the man had shared their conversation. He recalled how relaxed and happy he felt while talking with the stranger. He also remembered no longer feeling alone and empty at that time.

He picked the apple up off the floor, wiped it on his shirt, and took a bite. _No_, he thought. _I won't tell Father. I won't tell anyone. No one would believe me, anyway._ He turned back to face the Rack as he swallowed the bite of the apple.

_Thank you._

The room was dim. The light of the morning sun had just begun to pour through the large, ornate glass windows on the eastern side of the room. Kane was sitting on his heels, his knees together in front of him, his palms on each leg, and his head down. It was not a position to which he was accustomed. He had recently been appointed Grandmaster of Flowers, Abbot of the Monastery of the Yellow Rose, after the death of Grandmaster Poke, so others sat in this position when meeting him in this room. This was not the case today. His visitor was a special one.

"He took care of me," the visitor said through a grimace of pain. "He gave me the last scrap of food in the Temple, even though he was hungrier than I. His faith is infallible. Even though his prayers went unanswered for months, he never gave up hope."

"He seems an exemplary Ilmatari," Kane said, his eyes still lowered.

"For a thirteen-year-old boy, it astounds even me," the man continued. "He told me that his dream is to join the Monastery. He should be invited when an opening presents itself."

Kane dared to look up the man. "But he is so young! Are you sure he would even survive the Initiation?" A stern look from the man caused Kane to lower his gaze again.

"He may not," the man said evenly. "Survival is never a certainty for anyone. Not even me."

Kane sat in silence, trying to absorb the implications of those last three words the man had said. _Not even me._

"Invite him," the man said, "and we shall see."

Kane looked up again, but the man had vanished. He pressed his palms together and bowed to the empty room.

"As you wish, Lord Ilmater."


	5. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Selfaril Uoumdolphin shifted in his saddle as he made his way up the mountain. He looked to his left at the seemingly endless expanse of the Glacier of the White Worm stretching to the north. It was still quite dark, despite being morning. The sun had yet to rise over the peaks into the valley, casting a long shadow across the vast sheet of ice below him. In another hour or two, the sunlight gleaming off the glacier would be bright enough to blind a man foolish enough to stare. Turning his gaze further around, Selfaril looked at those following him, a handful of servants and guards. A covered wagon, pulled by a single mule, stood out among them. They all shivered at the cold wind buffeting them mercilessly. Selfaril turned his head forward again with a smug grin. He was perfectly comfortable, of course. _Potions of endure elements work wonders._ The studded leather barding provided similar protection to his horse. He looked up ahead and spotted his destination, a cave in the side of the valley. _It is all going according to plan…_

It had been over thirteen years since his vision. It was a long time, but Selfaril refused to act too soon. He would not move forward with his plans until the steps laid out to him by Bane came to fruition. The war he hoped to start between Vaasa and Damara happened without his help. Zhenghi the Witch King had sent an army of monsters to attack Damara. With Damara's military distracted far to the north, Selfaril felt the time was drawing near for his own invasion.

Selfaril's expression darkened as he recalled the events of the past few months. The Time of Troubles had ended only a few weeks ago, but not without cost. Bane had been killed at the hands of Torm the True. In a near panic, Selfaril hurried to Zhentil Keep to meet with Fzoul Chembryl, the leader of the Banites. Fzoul had reluctantly moved his worship to a new deity named Cyric, who had claimed part of Bane's divine power. Selfaril had refused to convert. Since that day, Selfaril has prayed to Xalos, Bane's herald, in the name of Bane. Selfaril knows that it is futile, but he would rather be labeled as one of the Faithless in the afterlife than worship an upstart like Cyric.

A sudden wind brought Selfaril back to the present. They neared the mouth of the cave, which was still shrouded in darkness. Selfaril dismounted and turned to his servants.

"You!" he called over the wind to one of the servants. "Grab the bag! The rest of you wait here!"

The servant hurried into the back of the covered wagon. A moment later, he reappeared with a small sack thrown over his shoulder. He kept his face down, making sure to avoid eye contact with the High Blade.

Selfaril walked to the mouth of the cave. It was too dark to see more than a few steps. Aside from the wind outside, there was no sound. After a moment, the servant said in a small voice, "M-maybe he's not home?"

Before Selfaril could punish the servant for his insolence, a rumble echoed out of the cave. The servant whimpered audibly. Selfaril noticed a puddle at the servant's feet and took a small step away, disgusted.

"Who DARES enter MY home?" a deep voice bellowed from the unseen depths of the cave.

Selfaril stood his ground. "I am Selfaril Uoumdolphin, High Blade of Mulmaster. I know who you are, O Mighty One. You need no introduction."

The unseen beast growled harshly. "The fact that you know of me is not impressive, human, and your titles mean nothing to me. Give me one reason I why I shouldn't kill you for your foolish bravado!"

"I come seeking aid," Selfaril replied calmly.

"Ha!" the beast snorted. "What reason do I have to help you, human?"

"In return for your aid, I will reward you greatly. I have already brought you only a small part of what is to come." He turned to his servant, who looked as pale as the glacier outside. "Dump the contents on the ground over there," he ordered, pointing to a spot about five feet in front of them.

"This ought to be good," the beast said, its voice dripping in sarcasm.

The servant stepped forward shakily. He opened the drawstring and dumped the contents onto the floor. The servant's eyes grew wide, for he did not know what the sack had contained until now. Diamonds of various shapes and sizes scattered across the cave floor.

"Hmmm…," the beast remarked from the darkness. "Not bad, human. You have done your research, it seems."

"They are yours," Selfaril said. "I can have regular shipments of diamonds brought to you every three months between now and when I would require your aid."

The beast was quite for a long moment. "What is it you would require of me?"

Selfaril fought the urge to smile. "I am sure you are aware of the Monastery of the Yellow Rose in the northeast region of this valley, yes?"

An angry snort echoed loudly in the cave. "Of course I do! Do you take me for a fool?"

Selfaril remained calm. "Of course not. I meant no offense. I plan to destroy the Monastery. I will be sending my finest soldiers to attack the town of Icehill on the other side of the Earthspur Mountains. I would like you to help them."

"You give me diamonds to kill humans?" the beast laughed. "You had me from hello!"

Selfaril allowed himself to smile. "So, we have a deal, then?"

"We do," the beast said. "But know this: I am not a soldier. I am NOT your lackey. I owe you no allegiance. And I will NOT sacrifice my life for your cause! I am worth more than any human life. No amount of diamonds will change that! Understood?"

Selfaril nodded. "Understood."

"One more thing…" the beast added slowly. Before Selfaril could react, a claw shot from the darkness, grabbing the servant. The servant screamed as he was pulled into the darkness. A sickening crunch silenced the screams. Selfaril merely arched an eyebrow.

"I was hungry," the beast said with a chuckle.

Selfaril shrugged and left the cave. The others were waiting loyally. The wind had apparently prevented them from hearing what happened in the cave. No one dared ask where the servant was. Selfaril mounted his horse and started back down the mountainside. He allowed himself a small chuckle.

_It is all going according to plan…_


	6. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

David sat in the front pew of the Temple's worship hall, listening as Father Thernan finished the final prayer to an over-packed room. Ever since the Time of Troubles ended over a year ago, there has been an upswing the attendance during the weekly worship services and donations were at an all-time high. _The fact that the Rack is no longer here probably plays a part_, David thought to himself.

Shortly after the Time of Troubles ended, Thernan had surprised everyone with an announcement. "An angel came to me in a dream," he had said. "and said that the Rack will no longer be the symbol of Ilmater! Instead, it will be this!" He held up a drawing of a pair of hands tied together with a red rope. When David looked at the drawing, his mind went back to that day, months before, when the stranger had walked into the Temple. _Is this…because of what I said to him?_

The sound of people standing brought David back to the present. As always, he joined Thernan at the altar to watch the crowd leave. Just as everyone was almost gone, he noticed two people in the back who were standing there, smiling at him. In an instant, he knew who they were.

"Father, look!" David said excitedly. "It's Brothers Hulder and Teluhar from the Monastery!"

Thernan looked mildly surprised. "Well, so it is. I didn't know they were coming. I normally receive notice beforehand. I wonder what brings them here unannounced."

The monks waited patiently for the crowd to leave. Once they were alone, they made their way to the altar. After they bowed, Hulder said, "Forgive us for arriving without advanced notice."

"There is nothing to forgive," Thernan replied with a smile. "You are not required to inform me beforehand. I do, however, find it peculiar."

"It is simple, really." said Teluhar with a sly grin to David. "We wanted to surprise young David."

"You certainly did!" David said. "Still, you would not make a trip all the way to Laviguer just to visit. What really brings you here?" _Have they found out anything about my parents?_

The monks look at each other with slightly impressed expressions. "You are very perceptive, young David." Hulder said. "We indeed have business other than pleasant company."

David's heart sank a little. _I guess not._

Brother Teluhar sat down on the first pew. "Father Thernan," he began. "We have come here to ask your permission, as his adopted father…" He paused and looked David right in the eye. "…to offer young David an invitation to join the Monastery of the Yellow Rose."

David felt as if his heart had stopped. _They…are inviting me?_ He had dreamed of this moment for nearly three years. Now that it had finally come, he found himself breathless…and apprehensive. _What if I fail? What if I'm not good enough…?_ He looked to Father Thernan, who looked just as shocked.

"You do not have to answer right now," Hulder said into the silence that had fallen over them. "It is not a decision to be taken lightly. The life of a monk is a hard one."

David kept his eyes on his father, looking for guidance. _I'm only fifteen! I don't know if I'm ready for this!_ Thernan looked at David, and the words he spoke sounded sad, anxious, and hopeful all at once.

"You should go with them, my son."

"Are you sure, Father?" David asked, fighting the urge to cry. "I don't know when I would be able to come back. It could be years."

Thernan put his hands on David's shoulders. "Listen to me, son," he said with a firm but gentle voice. "I have raised you from infancy in the ways of Ilmater. You have unyielding faith, even when Ilmater couldn't hear out prayers. There is no more I can teach you here." Thernan paused to swallow, trying desperately to keep his emotions under control. "The Monastery can show you how to use that faith to better everyone and protect those who cannot protect themselves. Please," he choked, finally giving in, "go with them." He pulled David in, holding him as the tears flowed.

A tear ran down David's cheek as his father held him. He looked at the monks, feeling somewhat embarrassed about such an emotional display. The monks looked on patiently with stoic silence. When his father let him go, he took a deep, steadying breath and looked the monks in the eye.

"When do we leave?"

The next morning, the entire clergy gathered to say goodbye to David. It was tearful, but everyone was happy for him. David waved goodbye as he and the monks headed north towards the Earthspur Mountains. There had no wagon and no mounts. Hulder explained the night before that this was a sort of pre-initiation. David must travel as far as he can on foot without complaint. It was a daunting thought. David had never even left Laviguer before, and now he must walk through a mountain pass and through the hilly lands beyond. He must then walk through the Earthwood to reach the town of Icehill. The trip would take well over a tenday, stopping only to sleep. David was determined to make it all the way without complaint.

By the end of the sixth day, they had made it thought the mountain pass. David felt as if his legs were going to fall off. He had never felt so exhausted. The blisters on his feet had no time to heal. He refused to complain, stoically tending his wounds as best as he could when they made camp that night. The monks offered to help, but it seemed that David was better at medical treatment than they were.

"There are benefits to being raised in a hospital," David remarked.

The monks laughed, but their laughter was cut short. Both of their faces suddenly hardened.

"What's wrong…?" David started to ask, before he was cut off by a quick gesture from Hulder. The monks looked around at the darkness, intently listening. David fell silent, listening and looking as well. _I didn't hear anything…_

Suddenly, a man stepped out from the darkness. He was wearing a green bandana over his hair and had a shortsword in his hand. David felt a surge of panic, but the monks remained seated.

"Can we help you, sir?" asked Hulder with a disarming smile.

The man looked dumbfounded for a split second before grinning. "I think so. Would you kindly hand over all your money and valuables?" He pointed at them with his sword. "My buddies and I would greatly appreciate it."

"We have nothing of value," Teluhar replied calmly.

"Oh?" the bandit said with a snicker. "What about your food? I wouldn't mind…"

"The food is the boy's," Hulder interrupted as he and Teluhar stood. "You may not have it. Leave us, and we will pretend this never happened."

"I don't think so," said the thief. He whistled loudly. David heard the faint click of a crossbow being fired. An instant later, both Hulder and Teluhar had a hand in the air, each clutching a crossbow bolt inches from their heads.

A half dozen men, all wielding swords, charged the camp from the darkness. They ignored David and attacked the monks. David stood up to run, ignoring the pain in his feet, but was stopped by the man in the bandana.

"And where are you going, boy?" he sneered, pushing David to the ground. David fell on something hard. He reached back and grabbed it. _Hulder's quarterstaff!_ David stood quickly, holding the staff defensively in front of him.

The bandit laughed. "Really? I can tell by looking at the way you hold it that you have no idea how to use it!" The bandit thrust his sword at David.

David closed his eyes. _Ilmater, help me!_ He twisted the quarterstaff blindly, knocking the blade aside. He opened his eyes and saw the bandit smiling broadly.

"Not bad, kid," the bandit said with a laugh. "But how long can you keep it up?" He came at David again, thrusting his sword at David's chest.

David jumped back and knocked the blade aside again. The man kept coming, and David kept him at bay. _How am I doing this?_ _The only practice I've had is with a broom handle!_ David felt a surge of pride. _I can beat this guy!_ An opening appeared for a counterattack and he took it. He thrust the staff at the bandit's chest. The bandit grinned as he grabbed the staff, pulled it from David's hands, and hit him with a backhand. David spiraled to the ground, clutching his face in agony.

"You got cocky, kid," the bandit said through heavy breaths. "I made that opening on purpose and you fell for it." He kicked David hard, forcing David onto his back. "Face it, kid," he sneered as he aimed his sword at David's heart, "you'll never be as good as…"

BAM! A fist connected with the bandit's face. The bandit collapsed in a heap beside David. David looked up and saw Teluhar looking down at the bandit.

"You got cocky, kid," Teluhar said to the unconscious bandit. He held out a hand to help David to his feet. As David stood, he saw that the other bandits were likewise knocked unconscious or writhing on the ground. Hulder had a nasty cut on his left arm.

"You did very well, David," Teluhar said. "Have you been practicing with a quarterstaff?"

"Not exactly," David replied, holding his face. David noticed that that was the first time the monks had not called him "young David." _Am I a man in their eyes now?_

"We should go," Hulder said as he put out the fire.

They left the bandits as they fell, not stopping until dawn. The exhaustion, blisters, and bruised face threatened to overcome David's resolve. Still, he did not complain. Reciting Ilmater's tenants over and over again in his mind kept him distracted from the pain. They made camp at the top of a hill. On the horizon to the north, David could see a great forest. To the east, he saw a massive body of water.

"The Earthwood," Brother Teluhar explained. "Another two days' travel and we will reach its border, and after two more days, we will reach Icehill. The lake is the head of the River Icehilt, which flows far to the east into the Easting Reach." He laid down on the grass. "Let's get some rest. We still have a long way to go."

After tending to Hulder's arm, David ate a quick meal and laid down. His feet were throbbing. _How do they manage without shoes? My feet are killing me, and I have_ _shoes!_ He glanced at the sleeping monks' feet. Calluses covered the entire bottom. Blisters had become callous over years of walking barefoot. David looked down at his own feet and smirked. He looked up at the clouds as he drifted off to sleep.

_Blisters are temporary._

_Pain is temporary._

_Faith is eternal._

_I'll make you proud, Ilmater._

_I'll make you proud, Father…_


	7. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

David and the monks emerged from the Earthwood's northern border, the air growing more chilly as soon as they left the woods. The Earthspur Mountains loomed only a few miles to the west. About ten miles ahead, they could see the town of Icehill nestled on the banks of an eastward-flowing river. It was a wonderful sight for the three, having spent the past tenday in the wilderness. The exaltation that David expected to feel upon seeing the town was quashed beneath a simmering anger.

"Figures," he spat as he looked at the town.

Less than twelve hours ago, David had finally given in to the pain and exhaustion of the seemingly never-ending hike. After telling the monks he couldn't go on until his feet healed, their reaction was not what David had expected.

"Well, it's about time!" Teluhar had exclaimed as Hulder laughed.

"I…I don't understand…" David had stammered. _Have they been toying with me?_

Hulder explained, "The Abbot wanted to see how determined you were to join the Monastery. He wanted to know how hard would you push yourself."

David furrowed his brow in confusion. "So…this isn't actually part of the Initiation?"

"Not really," Teluhar had said. "Still, the Grandmaster will be pleased to know how long you lasted. I, for one, am very impressed. I only gave you three days, and Hulder gave you four. You lasted over ten. It seems we have underestimated you, David."

David felt better after hearing that he hadn't failed the test. "Still, I would have like to have made it all the way. Has anyone ever done it?" Hulder and Teluhar looked at each other and chuckled. "Well?" David persisted.

"No," said Hulder. "But that would be because it has never been asked of anyone else."

_What?_ David had thought. _I'm the first? Why would they ask this of me and no one else?_ Before David could ask, Hulder reached in his robe and produced a small vial of red liquid. David immediately recognized it from his days at the Temple.

"A healing potion?" David asked.

"We were instructed to give this to you if and when you finally gave in," Hulder had explained. "I was beginning to think you were not going to need it. Here you go."

Now, seeing their destination so close at hand, David felt as if he should have just dealt with the pain a little longer. He would have entered the Monastery already renown for his unyielding endurance and determination. The feeling of failure crept slowly back into David's mind. He wrapped his arms around himself as a sudden cold breeze blew over him.

"Why is it so much colder all of a sudden?" David asked, shivering.

"This forest was enchanted long ago by a powerful druid," answered Teluhar. "The magic, among other things, protected the woods from the encroaching Great Glacier, which lies several hundred miles north of here. The cold wind from the Great Glacier constitutes a large part of the climate here in Damara, as well as Vaasa, Narfell, and the Moonsea. That's why they call this region the Cold Lands."

"We should go," Hulder interjected. "If we hurry, we can make it there by nightfall. I'd rather David not have to sleep outside in this weather." The monks shared a knowing look that was not lost on David. _What was that about? What do they know that I don't?_

The sun had fallen behind the Earthspur Mountains well before they arrived at the palisade gate that marked Icehill's southern border. A pair of guards flanked the gate. They wore studded leather armor covered with a white fur to help with the fight cold wind that blew in from the north. They drew their longspears as David and the monks approached. They quickly lowered their weapons when they recognized Hulder and Teluhar and opened the gate without question. The monks bowed to the guards as they passed.

The town was quiet and still. The occasional guard patrolling the dirt roads between the houses and shops was the only movement David saw. All the windows were closed. A bit of orange light from hearths shone through the narrow gaps in the doors and windows.

"This t-t-town is p-pretty dead after d-d-dark," David stuttered through his chattering teeth. The monks didn't seem to notice the cold at all.

"There's nothing to do after dark," Hulder said. "It's too cold. There," he added, pointing to a two-story building about a hundred yards away. "The Broken Mug Inn. We can stay there tonight before we head up the mountain to the Monastery."

David was not looking at the inn. He was looking up at the tallest of the mountains that rose like a backdrop behind the Broken Mug. Tiny specks of light shone brilliantly in the darkness. Though still too far away to see it clearly, David knew exactly what it was. _I can't believe it. There it is._

_The Monastery of the Yellow Rose._

The next morning, David awoke feeling much better after sleeping in a warm bed. The monks were waiting for him outside. Now that the sun had risen, David took the opportunity to have a better look at the town. Icehill reminded him much of Laviguer, albeit less than a quarter of the size. The large number of smiths further recalled memories of his home town, which also dealt primarily with mining ore from the Earthspur Mountains. The smell of fresh bread wafted past David and, for a moment, he was back at Blus Joleman's shop, picking up bread for the Temple. _It's as if a piece of Laviguer has followed me!_ David turned his gaze away from Icehill and towards the west. He could barely see the Monastery from where he stood. "How long will it take to reach the Monastery?" David asked.

"Just over a day," Teluhar answered. "The path winds back and forth up the mountain. The path is not easy to find unless you know where to look."

"In that regard," Hulder chipped in with a wink, "you're in luck."

They made their way up the mountain at a steady pace. Occasionally, they would leave the path to take a secret way within the mountain itself. The monks explained that the seemingly normal path would lead to dead ends or take them in circles, and one could spend days going nowhere before realizing something was amiss. They made camp that night on the mountainside, and David took in the view. _I bet the view is even better from the Monastery._

Shortly after they started the next day, David noticed that the path they were taking became abruptly paved with worked stones. He stopped when he saw that the stones had writing on them. He knelt down to read them. Each one had a name engraved on its surface.

Hulder explained, "Each of these stones is dedicated to a monk that has passed on into Ilmater's Embrace. It is a tradition dating back to the Monastery's founding one hundred and twenty-five years ago."

"How many are there?" David asked.

"I'm not sure," Hulder said. "It starts at the Monastery gates and ends here. It's about a half a mile long now."

"A half-mile?" David said incredulously. "There must be thousands of these!"

"The life of a Broken One is dangerous," Teluhar said casually.

A few minutes later, David saw the Monastery of the Yellow Rose up close for the first time. It was truly an awesome sight. The morning sun shone directly onto the white walls, giving the Monastery a soft glow. The building was well over a hundred feet high, and the peak of the mountaintop was only another hundred feet or so above the Monastery itself. He could see several monks walking along the balconies, talking casually despite the frigid wind buffeting them. David felt a little dizzy; he couldn't tell if it was from excitement or the thin air at this altitude. As they approached the gate, which was open and unguarded, David noticed an engraving beside the entrance. He recognized it as a passage from Ilmater's Holy Text, the Book of Martyrdom:

"_To be suffering with another is to be the other; losing oneself, and the distinction that any suffering is not our own, is our truth."_

_I'm finally here._ David took a deep breath to steady his nerves, and stepped through the gate.


End file.
